p me to get away from
that man!"

"Of course," said Jerry, promptly leading her away in the opposite
direction till the crowd swallowed them. "Who the dickens is he?"

She looked at him with a small, piteous smile.

"His name is Piet Cradock," she said.

"Great Scotland!" ejaculated Jerry; and added fiercely: "What the devil
has he come back for? What does he want?"

Nan threw back her head with a sudden wild laugh.

"Guess!" she cried.

But Jerry knew without guessing, and swore savagely under his breath.

"But you won't go with him--not yet, anyhow?" he urged. "He can't hurry
you off without consulting your convenience. You won't submit to that?"

An imp of mischief had begun to dance in Nan's eyes.

"I am told he has to sail next week," she said. "But I think it possible
that by that time he won't be quite so anxious to take me with him. Time
alone will prove. How many waltzes did you ask for?"

"As many as I can get, of course," said Jerry, taking instant advantage
of this generous invitation.

She laughed recklessly, and gave him her card.

"Take them then, my dear boy. I am ready to dance all night long."

She laughed again still more recklessly when he handed her card back to
her.

"You are very daring!" she remarked.

He looked momentarily disconcerted.

"You don't mind, do you?"

"I mind? It's what I meant you to do," she answered lightly. "Shall I say
you are very daring on my behalf?"

Jerry flushed a deep red.

"I would do anything under the sun for you, Nan," he said, in a low
voice.

Whereat she laughed again--a gay, sweet laugh, and left him.

CHAPTER VII

Piet Cradock spent nearly the whole of that long evening leaning against
a doorpost watching his wife dancing with Jerry Lister. They were the
best-matched couple in the room, and, as a good many remarked, they
seemed to know it.

Through every dance Nan laughed and talked with a feverish gaiety,
conscious of that long, long gaze that never varied. She felt almost
hysterical under it at last. It made her desperate--so desperate that she
finally quitted the ballroom altogether in Jerry's company, and remained
invisible till people were beginning to take their departure.

That feeling at the back of her mind had grown to a definite sensation
that she could not longer ignore or trample into insignificance. She was
horribly afraid of that silent man with his gloomy, inscrutable eyes. His
look frightened, almost terri